Back To Me
by Sakure of Snow
Summary: He took all of her, used her, and now she had to find a way back herself.
1. Back To Me

**_We tend to get so wound up and trapped in love (or the mirage of love) that we lose who we are. _**

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><p><strong>Back To Me<strong>

**A Powerpuff Girls/Dexter's Labratory Story**

**Disclaimer: The characters within this story do not belong to me. A work of fanfiction on fiction.**

There were no more tears; at least, not for him. If anyone told me that love would hurt this bad, I would have followed the example of my wayward sister and stayed buried in my books. The roses that grew whenever he walked by wilted and died. The songs that would drift through the air were silenced and the warmth I'd found in his arms now settled within my body with all the comfort of an Arctic chill.

There was nothing more to say as I sat down on my bed, burning pictures, notes, and trinkets of a few years gone. I gave my everything just to be destroyed like this. I gave my everything just to be defeated in a way that my enemies could never hope to accomplish. Bruises faded, bones mended, and blood eventually ceased to spill. This pain that ripped at my heart and infected my mind grew with each breath.

It was unbearable.

I wanted to break something.

I wanted to rush over to him and strangle every last bit of life out of him. I wanted him to suffer the same way he made me suffer. The rage was almost as bad as the pain in that I couldn't control either one. They both left a bitter taste in my mouth and a fire raging in my chest. How could he lead me this way after all I'd sacrifice to make this work! I fought my sisters and my father! I turned my back on good friends and allies. I moved in with the bastard for fucks sake! I gave him all of me in every sense of the word and it ended up not being enough! I gave him my word, my world, my body, and my loyalty. Against my better judgment and the way I was raised, I took his hand and never looked back, only to be completely and utterly alone.

There were no more tears as I packed my things, taking care to sweep over the cramped apartment until I was sure there was no trace of me. Dark and hidden even from the light of the moon, if there wasn't the presence of a table, a few chairs, and bed, one would have thought it were a large closet or storage space. No ties, he said. Easy for a clean getaway.

No ties.

There was nothing left for me here.

Maybe if I kept telling myself that my heart would believe it.

The car was warmed up and waiting as I deposited one bag and box. I hadn't accumulated much in hindsight either. I held onto something that was special or worth having. Or, at least I thought I did. There was nothing to keep or hold onto.

There was nothing left to hold me back.

Maybe if I kept telling my heart that . . . . .

I wouldn't look back.

But I didn't have to worry at that moment. As long as he was here, he wouldn't let me.

Embracing my face with his hands, he gently placed his forehead on mine, eyes closed and breathing in the despair and helplessness that seemed to drain out of me like water, exchanging it with steadiness and courage that poured out of him in waves.

There was no force or expectations.

There were no words.

After a few deep, calming breaths he had me emulate, he locked gazes with me. Even within those cerulean orbs there were no words, but deep feelings. That crisp, calculative assurance that he wielded as expertly my own gave me strength. I would be okay as long as he was involved; he would allow nothing else.

With that established, he scooped me off my feet and into the car, taking care to buckle me in. Was he always this strong? Was it another thing I while consumed in courting darkness? I stopped myself from thinking and tried to lose myself in the smooth jazz that filled the cluttered mess within my mind.

Fitting.

There were no more tears as I left everything behind.

No.

I left nothing.

What could have been was no more and no more it would stay. After falling so far from a hopeless place, I was ready to come back to earth and back to reality.

I was ready to come back to Blossom.

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><p><strong><em>Now is the time, more than any, to begin the journey back to us.<em>**


	2. Extention

**_Extension_**

She finally did it.

Was it sick that I couldn't tell if she left at all? It was the silence that gave it away.

When she walked through a space, you noticed. The air seemed to vibrate with her energy. When there were no longer words, her presence filled the space like no music or T.V. could.

Maybe the smell of smoke would have tipped me off. Or the charred remains of our broken marriage.

But what wasn't burning?

When wasn't there smoke?

She was fire and he was the accelerant. Where she held back, he pushed her. Where she gave pause, he rushed her full speed ahead. Where she would cry, he would scream.

That fire was so captivating to him, he had to feel it pulse. Had to feel it move; needed it to consume him fully. It was an addiction he exploited in any way that he could.

Love.

Maybe if I keep saying it, I might believe it.

The room was cold now and engulfed in shadows. The little corner she would sit in wait for him was now littered with the broken fragments of their degradation.

It was a fantasy.

A fever dream.

To pull the wings away from a butterfly and paint over a Monet with tar. Speeding as fast as you could, wondering how far could you go before you got arrested. How far could you race to jail.

An adrenaline rush.

Love.

Maybe if I keep saying it . . . .

His father commended him on a job well done; by far the favored son. It was something he held to the light whenever he could. Flashing a diamond in the gutter. Throwing it into the grime and sludge, just to polish it again.

Her sister stamped a warning on his ass.

That was the end of the happy family.

But when isn't anything burning?

That's the point.

I stretched out on the stripped bed, taking in the lingering scents of fallibility and desperation. It's not as warm as the fire, but that sharp sweetness underlined in acid was better than oil.

There would be candles out there. Maybe the fire will rise and consume him; a delicious end that would be.

One could only hope.

Maybe if he said it often enough . . .

Love.

_just feel_

Fire.

_blooms, just like you_

Junkie.

_need, raw and real and you for me_

Thunder against the clouds.

Rain over the flowers.

Sunset shining on the shack.

_back to me_

Maybe he'll believe his own bullshit.

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><p><em><strong>As you can tell I was in a mood an in a dark place when I wrote this. Something in me wanted to cap off the story complete, so I wrote this. It's poetry from a time just gone, hence a little scattered and unbeta'd, as I prefer with random fics.<strong>_

_**Make of it what you will; I hope you enjoyed it.**_


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